


Pale Perfection

by AxleaBee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Death, Depression, Domestic Violence, Forced Oral, Internal Monologue, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Originally Fanfiction, Possessive Behavior, Prison, Punishment, Regret, Remembrance, Remorse, Self-Acceptance, Violence, hopelessness, irrational behaviour, resignation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxleaBee/pseuds/AxleaBee
Summary: Never felt more fragile. Never felt more broken.





	

“Do it. Do it.” His voice was calm, despite being trembly-teary “I know that’s what you want… a problem that’s ceased to be anymore” skin smooth and bruised under your fingers, hair a silken vibrant flame-copper nest obscuring chipped emerald “If you’ll just let me..” a hushed whisper, grip tightens, emeralds widen, plump soft ruby blood smeared lips opening in surprise, panic, gasping, coughing as nails scrabbled for purchase desperately, frail frame heaving, twisting, trying to flee, from you, always running, always in flight, always, _always **from**_ you, never to, never, he _won’t_ leave you again, not again, **never again**. 

His scratches are lighter, less frequent, your hands are glad, were becoming sore, blood mixing with the stream that had run already from his nose and split lip, a soft breath escapes his lips and emeralds are dimming, losing that sparkle you so loved, the one you swore shone even whilst asleep, he was your ethereal beauty, your heaven sent angel with the sleek, slick tongue of the devil stoking the fires that burned jealously, fuelled by opiate rage and detonated by something as small as him sharing a smile with another, another you knew had the potential to entice him with pretty words and an empty promise of unwavering love, unwavering devotion, unwavering trust. More unwaverings than you could provide but you loved him, wasn’t that enough? Why wasn’t that ever enough? Why was he leaving? The air escaping his mouth is weak and shallow, empty, empty like you were told you were as they peered over half-moon spectacles, no peered wasn’t the right word, glared disgustedly was more like it. His hands fall to his sides, the light has diminished completely now, he’s no longer moving, no longer twisting, heaving, fleeing, no longer running. 

He’s perfectly still beneath you but your grip falters to remove itself, squeezing every last bit of hope from him, every last, every... last. Your eyes rake over his face, hands that have somehow freed themselves stroke his cheek, jaw, hair, close blank, accusatory eyes, eyes that had once glimmered with love, with hope, with desire, lust, promise, innocence, ambition, darkened with worry, with fear, with betrayal, disappointment, tears, sadness, sparked with surprise, excitement, anger, pain, everything’s faded, dimmed, eyes have lost their lively glitter, hair lost its vibrant shine, it now spreads over the floor lank, dull and coppery, no longer a shining bright flame, cherry pink lips that were so capable of inflicting hurt, waxing lyrical love silenced, snuffed out. Tears splash down unbidden on his pale face, pain, guilt rips at your heart and shuddering cries, screams leave your lips and you shakily scramble away from him, away from what you’ve done, away from his still frame, warm and solid but somehow he’s never felt more fragile, never felt more broken and it was your hands, _your_ **hands** that broke him. 

You wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, voices have surrounded you, yelling to shut up, they’re trying to sleep, a uniform’s baton hits the door with an echoed clang he snaps at you to be silent as well, your body is shaking, quivering violently as you desperately fall out of the hard bunk and shuffle across dirty cement to throw up in the toilet, you know what will happen if you get it on the floor again, you hear a creak from the bunk above yours, standard issue night clothed legs swing to hang off the sides “Good you’re awake” voice is sneering, mocks you every day, all day, you’re safe from the voice in your dreams but his blank eyes watch from there so awake’s better, awake’s what you deserve, you know this as feet hit the floor with a dull slap and cross over, the room’s too small, there’s nowhere that you could run to, even if you could fight this, fight as fingers squeeze your jaw open roughly, didn’t need to squeeze, did because they could, because everyone here knows what you did and even if they’ve done worse it doesn’t matter, “You deserve this” they tell you that, you hear it day after day, and never fight it, fighting only makes it better for them, it’s easier to accept your fate, accept your punishment. Hands twisted into your curls drawing you forward “Shut your eyes and suck like the pathetic, wasted slut you are.”


End file.
